Such A Virgin
by ThatLeviathan
Summary: Castiel supposes that this kid, Dean Winchester, must be important to Heaven if it's necessary for the angel to fornicate with him in order to save him from Hell one day. It shouldn't even be so hard to convince Dean to sleep with him. Well, it probably wouldn't be if Castiel wasn't such a virgin.
1. Such A Great Listener

**A/N: Hello lovelies, I'm back with a new story. It's a really strange headcanon of mine and I'm absolutely persuaded that it happened. It might seem AU-ish, but in the end it'll make sense and it'll definitely coincide with the canon Supernatural universe. Don't forget that it's rated M, therefore it'll be a little more… um, suggestive than my last story. (It's very very different from my last story, I'm sorry.) Also, the first chapter is depressing as fuck, but it gets better, I promise. It also doesn't explain much, so you'll have to wait 'til the next chapter (or the one after that) to understand what in the name of God is going on. Well, enjoy!**

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_November 2__nd__, 1996_

The abandoned glass of whiskey on the counter reflects the first rays of sunshine. That must mean that it's early in the morning. Dean doesn't know how he suddenly ended up in front of this bar, but that didn't stop him from entering.

The fights between Sammy and dad always leave him drained. He endures it for Sammy – he has to be there for him – and as soon as it is over, he crumbles. He needs to get out of the overcrowded motel room, needs to get away from his life for a moment. Ever since Sam blew the tenth candle on the cake (figuratively speaking, of course – Sammy never got to celebrate his birthday with a real cake and candles) he wouldn't stop drilling in Dean's head that he'd leave as soon as possible. Sam's constant babble about college is slowly killing Dean, but that's nothing in comparison to John's reaction, especially when he returns home intoxicated. This time, Sam excitedly chatted about Stanford when John came home from "the research" and yelled at Sammy for being a selfish brat. Sam was never a perfect little soldier like Dean. And so the fight began.

The disputes between them are normal. Dean grew used to it, usually even joins in to protect Sammy from his father's harsh words (or hard fists). But why tonight? The only day of the year that Dean wants to crawl into his bed and cry until there are no tears left.

The young hunter properly inspects the bar for the first time since he entered. The whole room is empty save for the short, light-haired man, probably twice Dean's age, who busies himself with tidying up the tables. He doesn't even look at Dean, focusing on the already clean tables instead.

Dean considers coughing to get the man's attention. After all, he did come to drown his sorrows in liquor, didn't he? He doesn't have any other explanation for the sudden pull to this bar that he felt earlier on.

"Excuse me?" he speaks up experimentally.

The man doesn't flinch.

Only a moment later, a different man walks into the bar through the back door that Dean hasn't noticed before. He can't be much older than Dean, if at all, but his aura emits such wisdom and deep understanding of life that Dean can't help but immediately gain respect for him. The cerulean eyes that stare him down shine animatedly, yet Dean feels that something is hiding behind them. His unruly hair appeared onyx black in the shade, but as soon as he steps in the only ray of sunshine in the room, Dean actually notices the strands of dark brown. Dean's emerald eyes travel to the stranger's plump, pink lips and linger for a moment until he sees the corner of them lifting upwards.

Dean doesn't find it in him to feel embarrassed. The man in front of him is staring at him shamelessly, too, that must mean he is not bothered by it, right?

Somehow Dean gets stuck in this staring contest. It could be seconds, five minutes, maybe an hour before the realization dawns on him and he breaks his gaze, trying to hide his flushing cheeks. Now is not the time for a make out session. He's supposed to be drowning his sorrows in alcohol, isn't he?

The man stands behind the counter and casually asks, "What can I do for you?"

Dean's words hitch in his throat. He didn't expect the man's voice to be so deep and… arousing. Damn, he has to drink real fast to stop thinking like that. No hook ups. Not tonight.

The blue eyes bore into his skull intensely and as much as Dean tries to let any words slip from his mouth, they're not coming. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. _Smooth, Winchester._

The man clears his throat and repeats the question, shifting his glare to the wooden counter.

Finally, Dean's brain allows him to form a coherent sentence. "Are you not closing soon?"

The man shakes his head. "We are not closing until the last customer leaves satisfied."

Dean laughs bitterly at that statement. This will be a long day for him, then. He's not planning to leave until he can barely remember what the reason he came was. He orders a beer and scrunches his face in confusion when the bartender doesn't move a muscle.

"I don't suppose you are of legal age?" he states severely.

Dean sighs and prepares to move on to another bar. If any decent place is even open at this ungodly hour.

Surprisingly, the bartender squeezes Dean's shoulder and forces him to sit back down.

"I was only joking," he speaks in the same tone of voice as before, his face expression solemn as ever. "Do I look old enough to work here?"

Dean quirks a smile and nods in understanding. He waits for the gorgeous man to deliver his much needed beer, watching his movements appreciatively. The fact that he can't touch doesn't mean that he can't look. Dean's eyes travel on his lean body, from his not overly muscular or weak arms to the jean clad legs. A runner's body, Dean guesses.

For a moment, he wonders what his dad would think if he knew that he's slept with guys before and doesn't consider stopping, but the thoughts drift away as the bartender pushes a beer towards him.

He chugs the whole beer in an impressively short time span, tapping the glass lightly and waiting for the bartender to refill it.

The man frowns and focuses his azure eyes on the forest green ones.

"Are you attempting to get intoxicated?" he inquires, his voice dripping with genuine curiosity.

Dean chuckles. "You haven't been working here for a long time, have ya?"

"I don't understand how that relates to my question."

Dean shakes his head, snickering under his breath. He stares at the boy (and now can't believe he referred to him as "man" before – the innocent and young features on his face are obvious) until he gives up and refills his glass.

"My name is Castiel," he informs Dean as he lays another beer in front of him.

Dean smiles to himself. Here it is, the flirting bartenders. He usually charms his way to drinks, even though he's only seventeen, and eventually in their pants without trying much. He'd appreciate it any other day, but today is supposed to be special. He wants it to be a respectful day that would make _her_ proud of him. He doesn't believe she's somewhere out there watching him, but if there's any possibility that she is…

"Dean," he hears himself saying before he can bite his tongue.

She probably wouldn't want him drinking until he passes out either.

"Well, Dean," Castiel commences, and Dean can't help but notice that his voice is completely emotionless, not changing a bit as he speaks, "what seems to be the issue?"

Dean contemplates staying quiet and staring at this Castiel guy until he gets uncomfortable and goes away. However, Dean has had the honor of participating in one of Castiel's staring contests already and he doubts he'd win this time. Castiel is a complete stranger. He's never met him before and he most likely never will. What could be the harm of confiding in someone?

"Family trouble," he sighs.

Castiel nods knowingly. "I will listen if you want me to." When Dean measures him with distrust, he adds, "Who am I going to tell? My cat?"

Dean considers that a fair point and makes a decision to trust this boy. He never talks about his life with anyone but Sammy, and even he can't know everything. Tonight, he will act like a normal human being, just like _she_ would want him to.

"My little brother, Sammy – he's still a tiny thing, just thirteen – decided that he wants to go to college when he's older. He's already working on it, he's working so hard," Dean stops to take a deep breath, "he really wants this, y'know? But our dad doesn't agree because… well, we sort of have this family business. And dad wants him to carry on with it, not abandon us. That's fine, I get it, I'll miss Sammy, too, but does he have to scream and stomp on the kid's dreams every time he brings it up? Don't get me wrong, I don't want to let Sammy go any more than he does. And I face these kinds of fights on daily basis, I shouldn't be so thrown off, right? I just… I just didn't want this to happen _today_," Dean's voice trails off and he can't bring himself to say any more.

A silence engulfs him as he finishes drinking the remnants of the second beer.

Castiel is studying him intently. For the first time, Dean spots the change of his countenance. It's not obvious at first, but when he inspects Castiel's eyes closer, he finds something in them. He'd guess that it's pity if he didn't know better. It's sadness. That kind of sadness you feel when you know that children in Africa are dying at this exact moment and you can't do shit about it. That kind of sadness that he saw in Sammy's eyes this morning when he remembered what date it was.

Dean assumes that Castiel won't speak up and almost breaks the silence by ordering something stronger when he hears the deep voice again.

"What's today, Dean?"

Dean almost chokes as he tries to fight off the tears. His dad told him that men don't cry. They suck it up and get over it. That's what he must do. That's what he was _taught_ to do. Fuck that, Dean's subconscious spits, that hypocritical son of a bitch sobs every time he gets his ass drunk.

He shoots Castiel an indignant look, hoping that it's enough to keep him from prying. But that concern in his sparkly eyes…

"It's been thirteen years since my mom died in a house fire today," his voice breaks in the middle of the sentence.

And there it goes again. That sadness in Castiel's eyes, as if Dean's words hurt him in the same way it hurts Dean to talk about it. Castiel's hand gravitates towards Dean's cheek and Dean _wants_ it. He craves the human touch. He eyes Castiel's delicate, long fingers, wondering if they'll feel like his mother's. In his head, distant hum of 'Hey Jude' takes place and the tears are seriously threatening to spill now. He lets his eyelids fall, anticipating the warmth on his cheek, but it never comes. His eyes fly open to find Castiel facing the opposite direction. Dean ponders if he imagined the whole thing. Maybe he wanted it to happen so badly that he _saw_ it in his head. Weirder things have happened to him.

Castiel hands him a glass of something (the burning in his throat suggest that it is scotch) wordlessly and smiles tensely. Whatever Dean perceived (or thought he perceived) in his eyes before is gone.

The mood transforms and they continue their conversation, turning it into small-talk ("What about your family?" "About as good as yours."), and after Dean swallows a few drinks, a light-hearted banter ("Any girlfriend?" "No, I am told I can be a tad bit intimidating." "If you stare at them like you stare at me, then I'm not even surprised.").

Dean lost the track of time. Talking to Castiel is so easy that for a moment, he chooses to forget what's been happening the whole day and takes a moment to appreciate the way the skin around Castiel's eyes slightly wrinkles when he smiles or just how pink his lips really are. He wonders how it'd feel to capture those lips between his and kiss his way to oblivion, how it'd feel to have those lips leaving wet trails on his neck and collarbone until nothing would matter anymore.

But then he remembers. Not today. He wouldn't be the same fuck up as always at least this one day.

On Monday, he will start going to a new school yet again and there'll be plenty of pretty girls and boys who will be more than willing to disappear between cheap motel sheets. There always are.

At some point he mentally nicknames the bartender Cas and imagines Cas's chapped lips whispering in his ear tenderly as he works magic with his hands – that's his cue to leave.

Dean stands up abruptly and smiles at the way the whole world spins. That's exactly what he aimed for. The pure bliss of barely being able to recognize his surroundings and not recalling the reason why he wanted to feel this way in the first place – those are the things that always make him keep drinking even if he honestly doesn't like the burn in his throat very much.

He grips the counter, the weight of his body suddenly too overwhelming for his legs. Cas observes him with something that Dean would like to call concern, but he'd be lying. His stare is just as blank as before, piercing through Dean like a million needles, and Dean seriously reconsiders if he doesn't want Castiel inside him right here, right now.

"Do you want me to take you home? You don't look so good," Cas asks tentatively.

Dean really wants to say yes. He wants to bring him to the motel, get them their own room, and let Cas fuck him until neither of them can speak or move.

"No," he slurs instead. "Thanks, but I live pretty close and I… yeah… I'm fine, I think."

"Maybe I could call you a taxi."

Dean shakes his head. "It's all good. You go get your beauty sleep or somethin', it's almost seven in the mornin', man."

Cas smiles and nods, which Dean takes as a goodbye. He leaves a few crumpled bills on the counter and stumbles his way out of the bar. The bartender seemed like pretty cool guy. Maybe they can fool around another day before Dean has to move on to another hick town.

Cas's brows furrow as he scrutinizes Dean's ungraceful attempt to walk straight. When he finally manages to close the door shut behind him, Cas lets out a deep sigh.

"What in the name of our Father are you doing?" the light-haired man who cleaned the tables before reappears. "He was kissing your feet! He'd let you do him right on this counter, you dork!"

Castiel grits his teeth. "I tried, Gabriel. I don't want to use him."

"Just like you're using Harry, one of the Novak twins?"

The younger angel's silence prompts Gabriel to continue.

"Let me tell you a thing, bro," Gabriel smirks, "Dean-o's thoughts about his dick in your mouth kinda suggest that _he_ wanted to use _you_. So pull your head out of your ass and work fast." He pulls a chocolate bar out of his pocket and offers it to Castiel. When the blue-eyed angel only shakes his head, he shrugs and proceeds to talk. "Look, you've got your orders. You know I don't usually give a rat's ass about anyone's orders, but this time I decided not to leave my brother to suffer alone in the human world. So stop being a pussy and go get that d. He wants you, you need to do this, everything will work out just fine. He's really important to that ass Michael and you know that. You can't fuck this up, Cassie. Not that I care, but I don't want anything to happen to you. Understood?"

And like the good soldier he is, Castiel nods. "Understood."


	2. Such A Bossy Dick

**November 4, 1996**

"Dean, get the hell out of the bed before I tell Dad that you left me home alone yesterday night!"

Dean rolls around on the bed and tunes out Sammy's annoying voice, hoping to avoid what is coming for a little bit longer. Another day at another school. Everybody knows that he won't go to college, so why does John keep stressing that he attends? Maybe he's afraid that the authorities will notice the crazy lifestyle that John forces on his sons. Not that it matters – nobody cares about them enough to do something. The thought of being separated from his dad and Sammy sends shivers down his spine, and so he decides to drift off to sleep again.

Sam doesn't leave his brother alone, constantly pinching him and stealing his blanket. He considers slapping him, but remembers the wrestling match after the last time he did that, and sighs. He can still feel throbbing in his head when he recalls how Dean deftly pinned his skinny wrists above his head and thrust him against a wall. Sam caresses the spot where his head hit the brick wall. Maybe he is a squirt right now, but Dean should just wait for the day that he grows and crushes him like a bug. He would win a fight against him and humiliate him. It will happen. Of course. Sure. Yeah. (Even in the back of his mind, Sam doesn't truly believe that.)

"Come on, Dean," Sam's pleading voice persuades Dean to open at least one eye. "Dad's fixated on this homunculi thing that the weird alchemist told him about and researches it all the time. He's out right now, so we have to walk to school. I don't want to be late!"

Dean groans, but finally gets out of the king bed that he has to share with Sammy. He rubs his eyes sleepily and stretches his arms. A quick look in the mirror tells him that he should have woken up earlier to get rid of the barely there stubble, but he soon forgets it as he brushes his teeth with something disgusting that can't possibly be toothpaste.

"I thought he was chasing some werewolves," Dean mumbles with his mouth full of the mint whatever-it-is. (And goddammit, this shit is almost worse than orange juice after brushing your teeth, which is saying something.)

Sam swallows the spoonful of milk and Lucky Charms. "He is, but this is his side project."

Dean doesn't inquire anymore. He quickly throws on some clothes, chugs down the last of their milk, eats a toast, and prepares some questionable sandwich for Sammy. He doesn't bother to make one for himself, too. After all, he might not stay in school until lunch anyway.

He grabs his leather jacket, tells Sammy to untuck his plaid shirt out of his pants 'because they'll be sick of your face and you don't want to make them sick of your clothes, too,' and finally makes his way towards Sammy's middle school.

"Be good, Sammy," he throws him a warning glance before he ruffles his hair and walks to his own new school.

He hears a distant, "Stop calling me Sammy, you jerk!" but doesn't turn around, only mutters a soft "bitch" under his breath.

As soon as he arrives, some nervous secretary that Dean can't even flirt with (she's like sixty, that's pretty gross) greets him and assigns him a student who'll show him around. He protests, convincing her that he's been to enough schools to find his way around. However, the old hag insists and finally introduces him to a short brunette with glasses and nice smile. Dorky chicks, he can dig that.

"Emily," the girl extends her arm.

Dean grasps it, nods, and follows her out of the office.

She stares at him quizzically with her blue eyes, and Dean remembers the sapphire eyes that mentally undressed him in the bar that he went to on Saturday. Emily's eyes were _nice_, but no match for the intensity of Cas's. God, he should totally go back and fuck that guy before he explodes.

Emily apparently registers Dean's mental absence and coughs loudly. "Uh, hello? You mind telling me your name?"

"Dean," he utters nonchalantly.

"Well, Dean," she smiles again. "This is your locker. Do you want to leave anything here?"

Dean raises his eyebrows amusedly and raises his hands to point out that he's got nothing that he could possibly leave in the locker. No books, no pens, no nothing. He might bring something tomorrow or the day after if he feels like it, but right now, he'll just look around for some pretty girls (or boys) to fool around with. They can't want him to do something today, anyway. They'll probably start with the sympathetic, "We know it must be very hard to move around so much," and end it with, "Try to catch up, kiddo, alright?" but before he has the time to do just that, they'll move again and Dean will go through the same process. So what's the freaking point?

Emily's friendly smile is replaced with a frown. "Okay, I suppose it's alright since this is your first day, but you might have brought at least a pen and paper." She sighs as if she were one of the desperate teachers that Dean had to deal with in the past, and he kind of wants to punch her. Except he doesn't punch girls, because that's unacceptable. "Maybe I could lend you some of my own?"

Dean grins and overenthusiastically nods. "That would be delightful, sweetie!"

Emily doesn't seem to catch on his sarcasm and hands him a pen and a few sheets of paper from her backpack with that characteristic smile of hers playing on her lips.

Dean can't bring himself to make fun of her; she's just way too kind. He mutters his "thanks" and actually means it for once. People tend to be dicks to new students, that much Dean knows. But this chick seems like a genuinely good person, which ruins Dean's flirt with her a little. He might be a dick, but breaking nice girls' hearts isn't his thing, and from what he can tell, Emily definitely isn't the "fuck 'em and leave 'em" type.

She explains to him that his first class is History (to which Dean openly scoffs – do they think he can actually pay attention to some boring-ass History lesson so early in the morning?) and how to find it, then wishes him good luck and strolls away.

Good kid, really.

Dean hangs around his locker a little longer to kill time. When he's about to head to class, he catches sight of dark messy hair next to him that coerces him to look.

For a moment, he just stands chained to the ground, not able to make a sound. He blinks and rubs his eyes, blaming his sleepiness for playing tricks on his eyes, but the figure in front of him doesn't change. In fact, the boy turns in his direction and bores his impossibly blue eyes straight to Dean's skull. A smile tugs at his lips as he nods in acknowledgement and opens his locker.

Cas. Cas in his school. There are about four goddamn high schools in this town and the sexy bartender must attend this one. Figures that once that Dean opened his big, stupid mouth and told a stranger about his family – something he never ever talked about – the stranger would turn out to be someone he has to see every day. Nice going there, Dean.

"Hello, Dean," the incredibly smooth, deep voice startles the young hunter.

"I- what are you doing here?"

Cas narrows his eyes and tilts his head. "I go here?"

Dean shakes his head. "But you work in a bar!"

"Um, yes," Castiel confirms with a nod. "I suppose I do. On weekends."

"Oh."

Castiel smiles lightly and Dean just wants to ravish him right there in the hallway, no matter who sees them. Those jeans hug him in all the right places and the loose white shirt just begs to be removed from the nicely toned chest. But you don't fuck the people who know your life story, that's the rule number one. And that's why when Cas opens his mouth to speak, Dean excuses himself and nearly sprints to his first class.

He accidentally takes the wrong turn that results in a longer walk, which makes him late for his first period. He doesn't really care about detentions or anything (and since it's his first day, they'll eat up his story about getting lost anyway), but his late arrival limits his choice of seats and that pisses him off. If he has to sit down in the first row, he'll just turn on his heel and leave.

Oh, but it turns out to be so much worse.

As soon as he enters the room, the other man from the bar greets him with a grin. Fun-fuckin'-tastic. Just peachy, really. So a teacher saw him getting shitfaced and flirting with his colleague/student (how fucked up is this arrangement anyway?). Dean prays for a lighting to strike him dead at this instant and closes his eyes. When he opens them, he's still alive (_oh gosh, why_) and the teacher is still ogling him.

"Hi, Dean-o!" he motions for him to step closer. "Winchester, right?"

Dean adopts the most uncaring, smug smirk that he can manage and nods for what seems to be the hundredth time today.

"Class, greet the new student. He's kinda cute, let's see if he's smart, too."

The hunter's green eyes widen at the teacher's bold words. He inspects the class's reaction. Everyone is either suppressing a laugh or sits unfazed. This must mean that the guy is a cool teacher, right? Dean's eyes browse the class again and stop on a familiar face.

Cas, dammit. To add that, the seat next to him is the only unoccupied one in the classroom. Just his dumb luck.

"I'm Mr. Novak, by the way, but I like my students to call me Gabriel or Gabe. Take a seat, Winchester."

Dean avoids looking at Castiel; nevertheless, he can feel Cas's eyes on him. His cheeks redden (_fuckfuckfuck that never happens to him what the hell is wrong oh my god this is bad_), his palms sweat profusely, and if the amused glint in Cas's eyes that he can see from peripheral vision suggest anything, he probably resembles a tomato-deer hybrid caught in the headlights.

He can tell that Mr. Novak – or Gabriel, whatever – is talking in the background, but he can't make sense of the words.

That's when Cas shifts his desk next to his and rests his hand on Dean's shoulder.

Dean startles at the sudden contact. "What are you doing?!"

"Gabriel just mentioned that we are going to be study partners during the class, didn't you hear?"

He didn't. "What's with him anyway? Why was he in the bar and now he's here? What kind of teacher is he? I mean, study partners during the class while he," Dean checks to see what is Gabriel occupying himself with and nearly chokes on his saliva when Mr. Novak rests his legs on his desk and very inappropriately sucks on his lollipop, "does that."

"He's my brother," Cas admits. "The bar belongs to our family, therefore we work there sometimes to help out. And these study sessions are just something Gabriel does once a week."

Brother. Alright. That definitely means that Dean's not getting in Cas's pants. He's still recovering from the time he made out with the principal's daughter and got suspended. Okay, maybe it was during the class in a janitor's closet, but the principal was too harsh with Dean's punishment.

"Gabriel told me to help you out with the curriculum," Castiel continues in his monotone voice. "He believes I should tutor you."

Dean wants to say no, he really does. His brain is definitely screaming, 'Oh, hell no, buddy, this is not safe!' yet his dick disagrees. Come on, tutoring? That sounds like an introduction to a porno, how can he bring himself to disagree? Instead, he just nods again like an idiot while Cas passionately speaks about World War II. Sometimes when he mentions the deaths that the war caused, he pauses and pouts. As if it really affected him. Not in the 'wars-are-horrible-fight-for-world-peace' bullshit way. It appears to be so much more than that.

Dean wishes to stop listening. He's never cared about History before and he's not starting because of some dork with a hot voice… or maybe he is.

Castiel's hands fly in the air as he explains one particular crucial battle and Dean takes a glimpse of those long fingers again. He thinks about all the ways he could use them and how would they feel buried inside of him, then curses himself when his jeans begin to feel a little bit tight. He attempts to focus his gaze elsewhere; however, finding a part of Cas's body that doesn't make Dean want to jump his bones is harder than it should be.

Finally, he settles on staring at the desk.

"Dean, are you even listening?" Cas's annoyed tone wakes him from his reverie.

"Yeah, you've been rambling on about the World War II for the past hour," Dean teases.

"You won't believe it, but that's the topic we're discussing this month! Fascinating, isn't it?"

Despite the impassiveness in Cas's voice, Dean assumes that some sarcasm has been hinted.

"Besides," Cas drawls, "it's been only forty-five minutes."

Castiel steals Dean's pen and a piece of his paper and scrawls something on it. He hands it back without any further explanation.

Dean scans the letters, coming to a conclusion that it's an address.

"What's this for?"

Castiel exhales (and Dean strongly suspects that he's suppressing an urge to punch him in the neck), pinching the bridge of his nose.

"The tutoring? Unless you want me to come to your house."

"What makes you think I want your tutoring?" Dean challenges Cas.

Castiel fixes his glare on Dean.

Two can play this game, Dean thinks. For a second or two, he believes it, but something about this kid unsettles him. He gives up (and won't forgive himself for that in the near future).

"Today after school. Five o'clock," Cas informs him and abruptly leaves just as the bell rings.

And that's how Dean knows that he's in deep shit.


	3. Such A Weird Feeling

**I posted the wrong chapter first, so if you were confused, I'm so sorry. I suck. I set it right now. I'M SO SORRY. Thanks CrapMusicCat for bothering to let me know that I'm a complete dumbass and... yeah.**

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Gabriel grabs his car keys and a jacket before he turns to his nervous brother. He doesn't understand the blind faith Castiel has in God and the unadulterated desire to comply everything He commands, but he couldn't leave the poor angel unattended on Earth. Life here is tough and a little noob like Cassie would get crushed by the cruel high schoolers if it wasn't for Gabe. Not to mention that Cassie has little to zero (and Gabriel is quite positive that it's closer to 'zero' than 'little') sexual experience.

How is marking Dean Winchester with Cassie's grace relevant to the chaos that is surely coming in a matter of years is beyond him, but he doesn't question it. If Winchester is somehow important to the future development of the world, then so be it. He learned not to query about any orders from Heaven that don't involve him centuries ago. The orders that do involve him are simply ignored. It's none of his business what's going on between those assholes upstairs.

Castiel is pacing around the room, breathing heavily, his eyes wide in horror. Gabriel walked him step by step through what he has to do, yet the idea of actually applying his newly acquired knowledge terrifies him. If he does something wrong, he might not get another chance to complete his task. That is unacceptable. He's never failed Heaven before and he won't change that now.

He feels a hand on his shoulder and sharply turns around to find Gabriel's sympathetic face reassuring him.

"Everything's going to be fine, Cassie."

Castiel exhales. "You don't know that. I have never done anything of the sort, Gabriel," he almost whispers. "I have no experience in this field. So many things could go wrong."

"It's not like you have to find the right hole to slip into, bro, there's only one. It's just a little bit of dicking around," Gabriel beams. "Dicking around. You get it?"

"Gabriel!"

"What? It's pure facts. And I know _for fact_ that you have a thing for him."

At that exact moment, a knock on the door resonates through the small living room. Gabriel quirks an eyebrow and eyes his wristwatch. 4:56 PM. Dean is pretty eager, isn't he?

Castiel closes his eyes and performs something that resembles a prayer (and Gabe sure as hell hopes it isn't what it looks like because you don't just go around throwing 'amen's and 'hallelujah's when you're about to shove your holy dick up someone's asshole). He takes a final deep breath and creeks the door open while Gabriel squeezes his shoulder for the last time and leaves through the back door.

Dean doesn't know what convinced him to obey Cas or why he arrived four minutes earlier (seriously, what the fuck? Cas must think that he's a total loser). What he does know is that Cas is staring at him as intensely (and sexily, to be honest) as ever and if he doesn't stop soon, Dean will lose it.

"Hi," he manages to squeak in a totally not girly voice, pssh.

"Hello Dean," Cas rasps in return, not as smoothly as Dean would expect him to.

Cas motions for Dean to enter the house, which Dean immediately obliges.

The house is not huge, that much he could see from the outside, but it's a _home_, and for a minute, jealousy overwhelms him. He inspects the place as inconspicuously as he can manage, throwing glances at the furniture and pictures. Every photo contains only Gabriel and Cas and they're taken very recently. Dean fights the urge to inquire about Cas's family, which would be only fair since Cas already knows everything about his, but in the end decides to stay quiet.

Cas and he are no buddies. They don't need to become anything more than fellow students who've been unlucky enough to meet on Dean's bad night. Just because they will study together sometimes (or more like Dean will listen to Cas's excited banter and eyefuck him) doesn't mean he has any right to pry. Family business should stay between family. Dean made the mistake of confiding in another person, but _exchanging_ life stories and gossiping while they paint each other's nails is a whole new level of fucked up.

"Would you like something to drink?" Cas asks in the same nervous voice from earlier.

"No, I'm good," Dean assures him. "Let's just get this over with, okay?"

Cas nods and licks his lips- and yeah, this is going to be way harder than Dean expected (pun intended).

They both sit on the opposite sides of the particularly big couch. Dean takes off his shoes and kicks them under the coffee table. He waits patiently for Cas to say something; nevertheless, the gorgeous boy only sits stiffly in awkward silence and focuses his cerulean eyes on Dean's shoes.

Dean wonders if Cas is some kind of germ freak and taking off his shoes ticked him off, but then Castiel trains his eyes on his lips and all is forgotten.

"I-" Cas starts, "I'm going to get the History book. Wait here."

Cas gets up so fast that he almost trips on flat surface and flees to the safety of his room.

Dean nearly huffs in disappointment before he remembers that History is the reason why Cas invited him. This whole thing is ridiculous. He can control himself (_has to_, in fact); he's not an animal. He's not even into guys that much. Usually, he goes after round breasts and wide hips. Boys are his last resolve in cases when the ladies present aren't his cup of tea. Now all he can think about is a pair of blue eyes and pink, kissable lips. That's just unfair.

Castiel takes time fetching his textbook. Dean certainly didn't look unwilling, so he shouldn't feel so guilty, right? Dean has copulated with people whom he knew less than Castiel; this is no big deal for him. Cas, on the other hand, is a virgin. Untouched for millennia, and a few weeks ago expecting to be untouched for the rest of eternity. He's just never had an occasion. Now the 'occasion' is sitting in his fake house on his fake couch, waiting for him to bring his fake textbook and babble about an unfortunately real war.

He descends the stairs as slowly as possible, putting off the inevitable. Dean is slouched on the couch with his face in his hands, mumbling under his breath. Castiel plops next to him, much closer than the last time. If he wants this to go somewhere, he must make his advances quickly.

Dean startles at the sudden thump next to him. Cas is so close that their thighs are touching, and not that he exactly minds, but it makes the whole 'get a grip, Winchester' thing much harder. He would shift away if he could, but he's already at the farthest corner of the sofa.

Cas opens the textbook at a seemingly random page and glares at it as if intimidating it could solve third-world problems.

Here it goes. He forces a tense smile and finally looks at Dean. He can just lean in and kiss him. He can do it. Yes, absolutely.

"So, what do you know about the causes of World War II?" _That went well._

Dean frowns at the question. "Hitler was an asshole?"

Cas relaxes and chuckles. "True. Anything else?"

"Not really."

"That's why you are here, after all."

Cas begins to explain the immediate and secondary causes of World War II, and the initial awkwardness finally dissipates. There's still that little _issue_ at hand, of course. Eventually, Castiel will have to seduce Dean. The question is how. Gabriel might have explained the simplicity of a kiss and how things would flow naturally from that point, yet Cas's stomach still twists in a knot just considering the possibility.

Dean's lips are nice. More than nice, actually. They're plump and a pretty shade of pink. Human beauty still mesmerizes Castiel and Dean's no different. Except he is, at least a little bit. To Castiel, all humans are wonderful, and still, Dean possesses a kind of beauty that Cas never perceived before. His delicate features captivated the angel the first time he's met him. Then he trusted him with his secrets and Cas noticed the other, more important kind of beauty. His soul. So pure, selfless, caring, but already broken.

"Cas?" Dean addresses him, making him realize that he's been staring, which according to Gabriel is inappropriate and 'creepy'.

"Yes?"

"You stopped talking about two minutes ago," Dean smiles. "You might want to take a break."

"That's a marvelous idea," the angel sighs. "Would you fancy a drink now?"

Dean lowers his head and laughs. "Yeah, man, sure."

Castiel prompts him to stand up and leads him to the kitchen. The kitchen looks spotless as if nobody ever used it. Dean is tempted to ask Cas if his parents are one of those OCD freaks like Sammy, but recognizes how close to the personal information territory he'd be digging. The forbidden area of family talk is forbidden for a reason.

Cas hands him a bottle of coke and leans on the counter. Dean settles on the chair dangerously close to Cas in the cramped kitchen only to feel intimidated and so _tiny_ that he stands up again. He shuffles the chair in the perfect position it's been in before, mentally going back to the question if the Novaks even use the kitchen.

"We don't," Castiel replies.

Dean's heart drops to his pants, wondering if he actually spoke his thoughts out loud.

"I can see it on your face, Dean. You've been meaning to ask the reason as to why this house is so sterile."

Dean blinks.

"And why there are only pictures of me and Gabriel around."

Dean opens his mouth to say something, but takes a sip of his coke instead.

Castiel and Gabriel have been working on their cover story for the past two days and finally settled on the typical 'dead mother and absent father' story. When Cas truly pondered it they weren't even lying. Neither of them ever had a mother and God is indeed absent. They added details such as Gabriel taking Cas in his custody as soon as he celebrated his eighteenth birthday and voila: questionable, sad background that Dean would never ever want to talk about was created.

Gabriel specified that Cas shouldn't speak of it unless Dean asks. "Don't scare the kid, he's not the touchy-feely type," he noted. Nonetheless, as soon as Cas's mouth opens the story spills out of his mouth. He adds details that he hadn't discussed with Gabriel. How he's never even met his father and how his name had a religious origin; how he had many more siblings, but they didn't take care of him like Gabriel does; how Gabriel told him that their father is dead, but he believes he's still out there. He pours his heart out, narrating as much as he can without mentioning anything strange that would suggest he's not human.

And Dean listens, yearning for it to stop, because his stomach is turning over, and he feels pity. That one thing he despises getting from other people. He can't comfort Cas. What would he say? He's in the same situation, with his mom gone and his dad barely ever there. The only person in the world who's always there for him is his brother, much like Gabriel is there for Cas.

He didn't want to get emotionally invested. He knew it would end up like this, it always does. You tell people about your life, they tell you about theirs, and then sooner or later you're both hurt.

If you ask Dean, he won't be able to tell you when and how it happens. At some point he gravitates toward Cas and lays his hand on his shoulder.

Castiel touches his vessel's cheek and is surprised to find it wet. He takes a glance at Dean's hand on his shoulder, at his mouth, and then his eyes. Those pools of despair and understanding are what finally pulls him closer to Dean.

Dean stills, but doesn't move away. Castiel takes that as a cue to continue and presses his lips to Dean's. At first, it's soft and experimental. He rests his hands on Dean's hips while Dean's slide on Cas's chest. Dean's mouth opens slightly and Cas's tongue promptly slips in without hesitation. Something warm spreads in his belly when Dean's pliant lips move in sync with his, picking up pace.

Castiel had his expectations. Gabriel assured him that kissing feels nice. However, nothing could prepare Cas for this strange feeling. It feels good—almost too good—and Castiel wouldn't mind if it never stopped.

Dean's tongue presses against his, compelling Cas to fist his hands in Dean's shirt and bring him even closer. Dean's hands roam through Cas's already messy, dark hair. Castiel focuses on everything and nothing at once. Hands, hands, tongue, tongue, bite, hands. He nibbles on Dean's lip, following every gentle bite by a lick or kiss. He wonders where he learned how to do that until Dean corners him against the counter and their bodies flush together. Dean's groin rubs against his (whether accidentally or not is unclear), eliciting a deep moan from Cas.

The sound wakes Dean from the trance he's been in. He parts from Cas and takes a step back, studying the angel's face with wide eyes. He can't believe that he let this happen, yet the evidence is clear on the boy in front of him. Red, swollen lips, wild hair (not that different from its usual state, actually), and pupils blown wide. He's sure if he allowed his eyes to travel south, he'd find Cas's tight jeans tented just like his own. So no, it wasn't only Dean's overactive imagination.

Castiel's a little bit annoyed and very frustrated, wanting nothing more than for the hunter to return to their previous activities. He's never _wanted_ before, but now his vessel's body screams with want, and who is Castiel to deny his vessel the pleasure? He almost throws himself at Dean again, stopping short in his tracks when Dean takes another step away from him. It stings Castiel in a way that he'd rather repress and never experience again.

Dean struggles to breathe. His entire body reprimands him for what he does next; however, he listens to the last reasonable part of his brain that reminds him how badly this will end if he lets it go too far. He could have had so much fun with Cas if he didn't ruin it with his dumb insinuation about his messed up family. Then Cas had to go and make it even worse, confessing to the horrors of being a Novak. Dean isn't _allowed_ to have that kind of a relationship. John gave him this advice years ago and he was right. Sympathy combined with intimacy ended up with feelings, and feelings ended up with heartbreak.

He spins on his heel, grabs his shoes and jacket, and marches out of the house. Ignoring Castiel for the rest of the time in this town will be hard, considering they share a class together, but not impossible. He needs to escape before his stupidity comes back to bite him in the ass.

Castiel supposes he should follow him. Although that's what he wants to do, he can't. This isn't about him or his 'wants.' He's on a mission. Being too close to Dean could bring problems to Heaven, he's been told. He's heard stories about angels falling in love with humans and what happened to them. He won't become one of those. He won't.


	4. Such A Good Soldier

**Hello hello, friends. I just want to thank you for all the alerts and favs and blah blah, y'know how it goes. Interestingly, this story gets more views and alerts than the other one, but significantly less reviews. I guess I can't have everything, but if you'd just leave a review at least for this chapter so I'd know what you guys think, it'd be great! Now on to the story.**

* * *

"…and then he just ran away!"

Gabriel stares at his brother and slowly blinks. From what he hears, there was no beautiful gay love shaking the foundations of the house. That's… that's pretty surprising. He expected Dean to jump at the opportunity of being alone with Castiel in a closed space that included a very inviting couch. He picked that couch himself to offer extra comfort! But no. Nope. Nada. Dean just ran off.

Gabe knew that touchy-feely crap wasn't Dean's thing, but he _did_ kiss Cassie after he poured his heart out, so what made him change his mind? Hell, even Gabe would do Cassie if he was into that and the thought of screwing an angel didn't gross him out.

"I don't get it. I mean, before I left, I made sure you were absolutely fuckable!" Gabriel shakes his head, talking more to himself than to Cas. "I fluffed your hair so it'd look 'fucked just a minute ago' instead of 'fucked in the last few hours.' I even made sure that you wore the jeans that make your butt look really nice and the v-neck that reveals more of your collarbone than strictly necessary. How could he resist?!"

Castiel gapes at his brother, his head tilted. "Gabriel, that is not of import. I failed. I will never be able to pull Dean Winchester out of Hell."

Cas doesn't want to imagine the years of torture he'll receive for failing. He deserves it, of course, but that doesn't make the dread that swallows him any less reasonable. Angels can get very creative and they never let you forget. Sometimes the years of emotional torture drain the life out of you for centuries.

According to Michael, Dean will be the most important man on the planet Earth in a decade. His significance remains hidden from Castiel, but when Heaven demands protection for a human and is willing to free him from Hell, his role must be crucial.

"Now listen there, you little shit," Gabe bristles and pokes his finger at Cas's chest. "I didn't give you the sex talk and got a job as a friggin' teacher for nothing, am I understood?"

Cas's eyes widen, and he nods with a gulp.

"Good. We're going to seduce Dean Winchester even if it's the last thing we do, alright?"

Cas nods again.

"And that is why you're going to go and apologize to Dean right now."

That might actually be the worst idea that Castiel's ever heard. Not that he has a better one. It is so flawed that Cas considers going back to Heaven and begging for forgiveness. Castiel is not supposed to know Dean's whereabouts, therefore finding him in his motel room would be – what's the word? – creepy.

Begging for forgiveness. Facing Dean. Begging for forgiveness. Facing Dean. Somehow, begging for forgiveness seems like the better option.

"Will you drive me there or do I go on foot?"

Or maybe not.

* * *

Castiel lifts his hand to knock for the fourth time in the past five minutes. He'll have to face Dean sooner or later, he knows, yet waiting for later appears rather tempting right now. If Dean rejected him the first time, why should that change now? Gabriel's plan to offer friendship is plain ridiculous. Time's pressing Cas – not only he should have been done with this mission two days ago, but Dean's father would be done with the werewolves that the angels have planted very soon, too. And if they have to come up with another case for John in the same area, he might grow suspicious.

Cas hadn't realized he's been hyperventilating until he feels his heart stop. He clutches at his chest, and almost screams for someone to call 199 (later he wonders how in the name of God do humans remember that it's 911 when they're panicking), because he's having a heart attack. However, his vessel's heart keeps beating. Of course it's beating, he's an angel. He can't die. Right.

He steadies his breath and reaches to knock when the door flies open.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Dean shouts (and Castiel restrains himself from scolding Dean for using a swear word and his half-brother's name in the same sentence).

His green eyes are blinking rapidly, boring into Cas, and if the angel squirmed under someone's gaze, it would be Dean's (but he doesn't, that's what humans do).

"What the fuck are you doing here? How do you even-"

"Dean, who is it?" a child's voice resounds from the tiny motel room.

"It's nobody!" Dean screams and shuts the door. "I'm waiting, Cas."

Castiel could begin the apologetic speech with any of the approximately one million words in the English language, and he chooses, "Was that your brother Sam?" Angels are not half as smart as one would think they are.

"What. Are. You. Doing. Here," Dean hisses.

"Listen Dean," Cas sighs, "I've made a mistake. I shouldn't have kissed you, and I am really sorry that I startled you this way. I didn't have any right to touch you if you didn't want to be touched. I don't want things to be awkward between us—we still have to spend some of our free time together, after all—and so I deeply apologize. I hope we can stay friends."

"That's touching," Dean chuckles humorlessly.

The last thing he feels like doing is laughing, but if he didn't he might just kiss Cas again. The poor bastard thinks that Dean didn't want to be touched. If he just knew that he wanted much more than that. He's had trouble with controlling himself since he met this kid and assumed that Cas could see that in his hungry (which is just a fancy term for horny) eyes.

And now he's okay with being Dean's _friend_. Dean doesn't do friends. They're right there on the list under 'feelings'. What good can friends do? Emotionally torture you and rip your heart out when they leave you, that's what.

Has Dean ever had a friend other than Sammy? He can't recall. It doesn't really matter.

"Look Cas, this is breakin' my heart, really," he fakes the sorrow in his voice exaggeratedly, "but I ain't really that interested in friends, sweetheart."

_This better be a good thing to say, Gabriel._ "Well, that's too bad, because you just gained one."

Dean's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

And that's it, ladies and gentlemen, Cas will spontaneously combust at any given moment now if Dean keeps glaring at him like that. His breath hitches and he's prepared to flee in case that Dean attempts to punch him (which would probably result in Dean's broken hand).

Eventually, the hunter erupts in laughter.

If Castiel said that the past thirty seconds weren't more intense than watching the world crash and burn, he'd be lying.

"Man, you always do that," Dean rubs his eye. "Stand your ground no matter what. I can appreciate that."

"But you would be much happier if you've never met me in the first place," Castiel finds out after digging in Dean's mind (a habit that must stop).

Dean's smile freezes. He scratches the back of his neck and looks away. "I'd be better off if I never met half of the people I've had the pleasure to meet."

The silence that falls is heavy and uncomfortable, forcing Castiel to speak.

"So, friends?"

Dean smirks. "It looks like I don't have a say in this."

"You don't. Mind going for a walk?"

Dean practically shakes with laughter. He can actually see Cas becoming a world leader one day. That determination and fight for everything he believes in would certainly help to make the world a better place. Smart, sophisticated, determined, persuasive, and attractive – now that's a combination that Dean appreciates. Or people. Yeah, people in general appreciate that. Not just Dean. Ha. Haha. Yeah.

A single raindrop finds its way to Dean's cheek, but he ignores it as he strolls next to Cas in companionable silence.

"I am not as brave as you think I am," Castiel shakes his head sadly.

Dean arches an eyebrow. _Sneeze if you can read my mind,_ he thinks. No sneezing ensues. "Why would you say that? You always stand up for yourself and do whatever you want."

Cas chuckles darkly. "I just follow orders, Dean. Like the good soldier I am."

For a moment, the only sound they can hear is the storm in the distance that is quickly approaching.

"Then we have something in common, I guess."

Dean takes Cas's questioning gaze as an invitation to continue. He drops his gaze to the ground and kicks a random stone.

"I always do what my dad tells me to. He knows best, you know? Ever since mom died, he's been into… hunting. Deer and stuff. And he likes it when I join.

"In the beginning, I didn't like it. Not one bit. I didn't want to even hold a real rifle, let alone shoot something. Just because it ain't human doesn't mean it don't have feelings. But I did it anyway because he wanted me to and all I wanted was to make him proud.

"And now I guess I'm used to it. Soon enough I understood the thrill of the hunt. I kinda like it now and I suspect I'm gonna like it more and more as the years go by. Dad's the best at what he does and maybe one day I'll be the best and he'll be really proud of me…"

Dean takes a deep breath to steady himself and finally shifts his eyes back to Cas.

"I can relate," he mutters, and judging by the understanding in his eyes, Dean doesn't doubt he does.

That's another chunk of his life that he's shared with Cas. _Son of a bitch._ Now this stranger knows more about him than any other living person who's not family. So much about privacy. Dean's not very good at the whole 'not sharing any info, not feeling' thing around Cas, he's noticed.

They keep walking in an agreeable silence until the light drizzle becomes downpour.

"We should head home," Dean suggests.

Cas nods. "Take care, Dean."

And then he disappears behind the heavy curtains of water.

* * *

Castiel breathes heavily as he shuts the door of his fake house, wiping the raindrops from his (or his vessel's, that depends) face.

Gabriel is completely, utterly out of his mind. Friends with Dean Winchester. Cas might not know much about humans, but he's been around for a few millennia, and from what he can tell friends don't penetrate each other. Wouldn't this new acquired friendship only complicate his mission?

Castiel is not dumb, he does have friends. Anna's been a great friend to him until she fell, and Balthazar is definitely very close to him. However, they're angels, or rather multi-dimensional wave-lengths of celestial intent. They don't 'watch movies' or 'hang out' as Dean suggested they could do from time to time. They certainly do not attend high school, which Castiel will have to endure for a little bit longer.

"So what? You Dean's buddy now?" Gabriel wiggles his eyebrows and hands Cas a cup of hot chocolate.

Why he does that is beyond Castiel since he doesn't feel cold or thirst. Still, he accepts and mutters his "thank you." He pointedly ignores Gabriel's question.

"Did it not go well?" Gabriel frowns.

"No," Castiel takes a seat and lets his eyelids fall, "it went well enough. He accepted my offer of friendship."

"That's super!"

Castiel narrows his eyes. "How is that 'super'? I don't know how to proceed now, Gabriel. I am oblivious to the secrets of human friendship, and I certainly can't stay _only_ his friend."

Gabe's mouth curls in a sneer. His poor, little brother has obviously never watched porn. Human friendships between two people (or an angel and a person, whatever) who are attracted to each other and repress their sexual tension never last. He's seen enough Hollywood chick-flicks (_and_ intros to porn movies) to know that.

Cassie might not be aware of lusting after Dean yet, but his want is as clear as day. Gabe can just feel it. The way Cassie looks at Winchester like he's the most precious thing that God's ever created speaks louder than words. Gabriel has looked at women the same way many times before. Cas wants the hunter even if he doesn't know it yet, that's for sure.

Or maybe Gabe just imagines that because he desperately hopes Cas won't fail.

"Everything will come naturally, Cassie, believe me."

"I hope you are right, or so help me, I will smite you."

* * *

Sam sighs for the umpteenth time while doing his Math homework. He wants to be a lawyer, not a mathematician! He fully understands why everybody hates Math. He's never really had any trouble with it per se, but it's just so boring. Whose idea was it to combine letters with numbers and think it's okay? And what kind of idiot takes Algebra in eighth grade? That's right, Sam freaking Winchester.

He can't even distract himself with Dean since that dumbass left. Sam isn't an idiot – when his brother said that nobody was there and abruptly left, he knew that Dean wouldn't be returning home tonight.

Or, at least, so he thinks until the motel room's door flies open.

It takes Sam one quick glimpse to realize that something's wrong with Dean. He's not referring to the soaked clothing that clings to his body or the fact that he clearly hasn't shaved in days. (Hopefully, he's not going through his 'beards are cool' phase that all the grungy teens consider so great.) It's the mixture of confusion, shock, and even a little bit of pleasure on his face.

"Dean? What is it?" he inquires with curiosity. Anything's better than the Math homework.

Dean blinks slowly and looks at Sam as if he didn't notice he was sitting there the whole time. He tilts his head and speaks incredulously. "I think… I think I have a friend, Sammy."

After a moment, he freezes and his eyes widen. "Oh shit, Sam, I have a friend!"

Screw homework. This is definitely a story Sam longs to hear. Dean just doesn't do friends; it's not his _thing_, as he often repeats.

"You wanna tell me about it?"

Dean peels off his shirt and licks his blue lips. "Not really. What I wanna do is take a shower and possibly puke my guts out."

Before Sam gets a chance to ask more questions, Dean closes the bathroom door behind him.

If a magic genie—like the one from Aladdin, not those bastards that kill people—appeared in front of Sam and promised to grant him one wish, he wouldn't think twice about it. Meeting Dean's new friend just became his number one priority.


	5. Such An Unexpected Date

_November 8__th__, 1996_

So yeah, maybe Dean isn't as friendly as he promised he would. And maybe after he took a shower, his head cleared and he realized the severity of the situation. Possibly, he might have replied 'fuck off' to each of Sam's questions. It's not his fault that having friends is just so damn hard.

Dean chews on his pen and pointedly ignores Castiel's attempts to begin a conversation. That's how it's been the whole week. Dean might have agreed to be Cas's friend, but he was under pressure in that moment. It doesn't count.

He wishes John would hurry up with the werewolves. How difficult can it be to kill a few of those bastards? Okay, maybe a whole pack isn't a "few", but Dean is persuaded that John's slacking. Most of the times he comes back to the motel after a couple of nights in his drunken state, and both Sammy and Dean are well aware that he wouldn't hunt this inebriated. He's always under the influence of a little bit of Hunter's Helper, but never to the point that he can barely walk in a straight line.

They're here for almost a week and John hasn't even found the werewolves' lair yet. That's pretty weak for the best hunter in the business.

Needless to point out, it complicates Dean's plans to avoid Cas and get out of here as soon as possible. Sometimes his dad's hunts take a month or two, but they must be really complicated. These are just _werewolves_. John has faced them before and this should be no problem. So why is it taking so goddamn long?

The thing is, Dean thought that ignoring Cas would cause his interest to falter. Nevertheless, Cas is as insistent as ever. He still invites Dean over for tutoring, and Dean still goes, which is incidentally where they are right at this moment.

"Dean, I'm not an idiot. I can tell you are not focusing on the curriculum," Cas grumbles as he lays the heavy textbook on the coffee table.

"I'm sorry," Dean rubs his face, "there's just a lot on my mind. And it's Friday, Cas, this is slavery!"

Castiel scrutinizes Dean with the usual intensity that no longer makes Dean feel uneasy. (Instead, it makes him want to surge forward and kiss Cas, which is not much better.)

"Alright," Cas finally sighs.

Dean beams. "So I can go home?"

For a second, Castiel wants to say 'yes' and kick Dean out of his fake-house. This mission is harder than he anticipated and he seems to be getting nowhere. Dean won't budge and only speaks to him when they're alone; even then he tries to avoid it. Castiel has had enough. He's not even opposed to the idea of losing his virginity to Dean anymore, but he can't actually _seduce_ anyone. Gabriel once suggested that Cas could get Dean drunk, which would make things very easy, but Castiel's morals didn't let him agree to this plan.

Gabriel keeps assuring the younger angel that everything will work out just fine in the end, and the fact that John's grieving his wife and has a mental breakdown bigger than usual buys them some time. He gave Cas an 'assignment' for today to 'get things moving,' though.

"Well," Cas tries to look enthusiastic, "I thought we could go see a movie."

Dean gulps. This is exactly the moment he dreaded. It had to come sooner or later since Cas and he are 'friends,' but Dean really hoped it'd be later.

They're friends. They are. Dean can do this.

"What movie?"

"There's this new movie that is coming out tonight. Ransom, you've heard of it?"

"The one with Mel Gibson?" Dean's eyes almost pop out of his head in excitement. "Dude, I've been wantin' to see that movie since I've heard that they were gonna make it!"

Cas smiles and this time it's genuine as relief washes over him. "I take it that you would like to go?"

Dean almost trips and falls on his face when he hastily puts on his shoes and stalks towards the door. Screw awkwardness and pushing Cas away. Cas is obviously not giving up on Dean and he really wants to see that freaking movie, therefore he'll absolutely avoid the fact that this could be considered a date, and makes a mental note not to pay for both of them.

They can have a good time. Just two buddies hanging out at the movie theatre because they have nothing (and no one) better to do. People do that all the time, don't they?

"So you goin' or what?"

Cas nods with that small smile still tugging at his lips and grabs his jacket. He hands Dean his leather jacket that he almost forgot in the haste and they head out to Dean's Impala. Dean explained how careful Cas has to be and how he should treat Baby like a lady, not only because John barely ever lends her to Dean and would kill him if anything happened to her, but also because she's the only love of Dean's life and without her he'd die.

Dean smiles and caresses the wheel of his Baby before he steps on the pedal and follows Cas's directions to the local movie theatre.

The ride is mostly silent as Castiel takes the car in. He's never been in a car before. He simply flies everywhere, or walks in cases where he could be seen by humans. This, however, is something different. It doesn't feel like walking or flying or anything he's experienced before. There's a strange rush pulsing through his body as the wind strokes his face and Dean plays one of his father's tapes. Castiel doesn't recognize the song—how could he, really?—but it doesn't matter. It suits the situation perfectly.

The ride ends sooner than Castiel would like to. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, Dean watches him with an expression mixed with amusement and curiosity.

"I suppose you like the car?" Dean chuckles breathlessly.

In reality, he can barely manage to speak. Cas looks so relaxed and alive for a moment that Dean's breath hitches. The setting sun conjures up a halo behind Cas's head and the sight is nothing short of beautiful. If Dean didn't know better, he'd believe that Cas is actually an angel. That is ridiculous, of course, and Dean's thoughts are also ridiculous, and everything he's been thinking for the past few seconds is fucking ridiculous, and he just needs to stop, goddammit.

"Yes," Cas blinks as if he just woke up from a dream and wasn't sure whether it truly happened or not.

"Maybe we could do this again," slips from Dean's mouth before he can stop it. "Go for a drive, I mean."

"I would enjoy that very much, Dean."

_Oh, for Christ's sake, just stop staring and get out of the car, you dumbass_, Dean reprimands himself. He nods for the last time and practically sprints out of the car, if such thing was possible.

Cas follows his suit immediately, sending a quick prayer to his father to assure that this is the last night with Dean. He wasn't lying when he said he'd enjoy another ride with him. He would enjoy doing anything with Dean again, which might turn into a big problem soon. Growing close to humans isn't against the rules, but it does lead to romantic feelings sometimes, and Castiel prefers to avoid that. Either way, Castiel will have to leave Dean as soon as he completes his mission, and bringing himself the pain of caring about the Winchester would be masochistic.

"Two tickets for Ransom," Dean smiles at the middle-aged woman with the most bored expression he's ever seen. In an attempt not to stare at her giant mole (probably failing miserably), he turns to Cas.

"Please," Castiel adds as an afterthought when he realizes that Dean doesn't intend to exercise his manners.

Dean shakes his head and rolls his eyes but can't stop the tiny smile that Cas's politeness brings to his face. It's kind of adorable.

"It don't start 'til 7:30, boys," the woman drawls in a thick Southern accent. "Is that a'ight?"

_Oh god, no, that's sure as hell not alright._ Dean hoped to sit down in the dark theatre, swallow his popcorn like there's no tomorrow, and endure the movie in silence. It wouldn't be necessary to speak to Cas at all. Maybe he might utter some comment about how "this scene is incredibly badass" or how "Gibson's totally killing it." Now he would be forced to spend about an hour with Cas and come up with conversational topics. It's like the universe is conspiring against him.

Castiel doesn't let Dean voice his doubts and quickly replies to the employee. "Yes, that is alright."

She nods and offers them the seats all the way in the back. Dean is about to point out that they're definitely not sitting in the make-out row, but Cas beats him to it and nods enthusiastically. Either this kid is socially deprived and doesn't know what the backseats are reserved for, or he does know and doesn't care. Dean's not sure which option scares him more.

It stinks like a date.

"That'll be ten dollars, boys," the woman announces.

Dean opens his mouth to let her know that they will pay separately; however, by then Cas is already handing her a few crumped bills.

"Cas, no," Dean insists, "I'll pay my own ticket."

Cas shakes his head. "Nonsense. I invited you to come with me, and it is therefore my responsibility to pay for you."

Dean's stubborn set of jaw twitches as he prepares to tell Cas that he's perfectly capable to pay his own goddamn ticket, thankyouverymuch, yet something in Cas's intense gaze tells him to let it go.

And yep, this definitely stinks like a date, alright.

Dean tries to come up with a way to thank Cas without actually saying it and ends up with a, "I'll pay next time," which is a dumb thing to say since there'll be obviously no next time.

Cas smiles again—and that's becoming a little bit too frequent for a guy who barely ever changes his face expression—and reaches for Dean's wrist. His hand is cold to the point that it burns Dean (what's the physics behind that anyway?), but he doesn't flinch or move away. He should, absolutely. He shouldn't enjoy Castiel's touch or imagine those long fingers touching other places. He shouldn't be hanging out with Cas at all. He shouldn't be doing lots of things, but here he is. So fuck everything, he's just going with the flow.

Cas tugs at Dean's arm and prompts him to follow. It'd be about time to let go of his wrist if Castiel knew anything about personal space, but he doesn't, and so the burning skin under his fingers doesn't bother him. He strides with purpose and everyone in his way moves away as soon as they notice him.

He finally halts in front of a tiny diner just a few feet away from the theatre.

"I figured you would be hungry."

Dean grins. "When am I not hungry?"

As soon as they sit down in a booth, a cute waitress greets them and hands them menus. Dean smiles at her flirtatiously, but somehow feels like a dick for hitting on the waitress in front of Cas, and looks away immediately.

Castiel seemingly misses (or chooses to ignore) the interaction and studies the menu for about ten minutes before deciding that he'll order the same as Dean (bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate milkshake). At least he's not going through his vegetarian phase like Sammy.

Initially, the conversation is a little bit awkward. The first date atmosphere engulfs Dean completely. Come on, dinner and movies? He's done much less to get laid. This must be level three hundred on a one to ten relationship scale. Maybe it wasn't Cas's intention, but they ended up being on a date whether he wants it or not.

And Dean might or might not kinda like it. Kinda.

"Oh wow, how many siblings do you even have?" Dean exclaims when Cas finishes his story about the fight between Anna, Uriel, and Balthazar.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he realizes that they're talking about family. That was the topic that Dean successfully avoided for the past week. Confiding each other tales about their families definitely signifies friendship, and friendship definitely leads to pain once that Dean takes off to another town. Friends are a dangerous business and yet… Dean can't bring himself to care.

"Many," Cas replies vaguely.

Dean fixes Castiel with a glare that might either mean 'I absolutely understand that you don't want to talk about this' or 'I ain't gonna put up with your bullshit, just tell me.' Cas assumes it's most likely the second one and continues.

"My Father has more children than you could count."

"Oh," Dean nods, "womanizer, I see."

"From what I've heard, so are you," Cas slurps his milkshake nonchalantly.

Dean knows it true, but the way Cas says it bothers him. "How would you know?"

"Gabriel caught you kissing Sally Keener in the janitor's closet yesterday, and I know for fact that she's not your girlfriend." Castiel pauses and narrows his eyes as he bites a french fry. "Then, of course, you were also caught having sexual intercourse with Jason Gilborn in the boys' bathrooms on Tuesday, so I suppose 'womanizer' is not the proper term."

"Hey," Dean huffs, feeling the blush creeping on his cheeks. "I'm an equal opportunist, ain't nothing wrong with that."

"I never said there was."

Catching the glint in Cas's eyes, Dean's pretty fucking sure that there isn't – and if there was something wrong with, he wouldn't give a crap.

After that, the conversation flows. Dean spills some things that he'd rather take back if he had the chance; nonetheless, Cas never seems to notice. He speaks with a certain sesquipedalianism that doesn't sound quite as condescending as it probably would if anyone else adopted it, and it leaves Dean mesmerized. That should be illegal. Also Cas's lips, preferably. Actually, Cas should be illegal, period.

They get so caught up in the conversation that they almost miss the beginning of the movie. At 7:28, Dean glances at his watch between hiccups caused by excessive laughing (everything was ten times funnier when said by Cas with that solemn expression of his), slaps some money on the table, grabs Cas's wrist much like Castiel has done before, and runs for his life. Thankfully, they make it just after the trailers begin.

At least there was no awkwardness while buying the popcorn since they didn't manage that. Dean couldn't deal with another 'who's paying' moment. Thankfully, Cas hasn't mentioned how Dean paid for their food. Now they're even.

Throughout the movie, Dean casts quick glances at Cas (just to see his reaction, obviously), who's staring at the big screen with wide eyes. Sometimes he pokes Dean's ribs and whispers, "Did you see that?!" only to shush him when he tries to reply.

The movie is pretty good, but Dean's honestly more entertained by Castiel's reactions.

Even as they leave the movie theatre, Cas is still blinking rapidly and discussing his favorite moments in a monotone voice that doesn't match his word choice at all.

"…which was absolutely unreasonable. Aren't humans fascinating?"

"Huh?" Dean snaps out of his thoughts.

"You have the attention span of a goldfish, Dean," Cas shakes his head as he fasts the seatbelt.

Dean shrugs and starts the car, not bothering with a seatbelt. After all, John never does either. He inserts a tape in the cassette player, losing himself in the story of how the bulldog lost his bite and his breath has gone bad, and the whole damn world is really laughin' mad.

This time, Dean avoids looking at Cas. He's surely just as stunned and breathless as before, and… nothing against him, but Dean doesn't want to see it again. It's just dawning on him that he allowed himself to go on a date with a guy that he genuinely likes and cares about, which is taboo. He can't lose control like that.

As soon as he parks in front of Cas's house, he forgets why it was such a big deal.

Cas licks his lips and hopes to God that Dean finally catches the hint. He stares directly in Dean's bright green eyes with what he hopes looks like lust.

"Thank you, Dean," he leans a little bit closer. "I've thoroughly enjoyed myself tonight."

Dean gulps, flicking his eyes away from Cas's mouth. "No problem."

He doesn't move and Cas takes that as a permission to move even closer. He can already feel Dean's breath on his lips when Dean turns his head.

"Uh, well, I should get home," he stutters. "Sammy is pro'ly all alone and God knows if he ate somethin'."

Cas almost punches him in the nose and takes him without consent, but somehow he manages to smile and breathe, "of course." Unfortunately, he can't keep the annoyed grunt in his mouth.

He mumbles his 'bye' and runs to his house (when did he start thinking about this building as his house?) before Dean can say something else.

For a promiscuous man, Dean's surely a challenge.

* * *

**A/N: Y'all should know that Ransom actually DID premiere on November 8, 1996, which makes me an awesome person who writes with historical accuracy. I haven't fucked up and gave some person an iPhone yet, and if you don't think I deserve a round of applause for that, you're wrong.**


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